


The Button Thief

by AgustinaPrasanti



Series: Here be Dragons [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dolls, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Injury, Thievery, got distracted along the way, was going for a fairytale style writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:22:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6835126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgustinaPrasanti/pseuds/AgustinaPrasanti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Wilson is in a conundrum. Every morning one of his shirts would be missing a button!</p>
<p>Who could have stolen them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Button Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again~
> 
> This one's a bit different from the others,  
> I was trying to go for the fairytale style kind of writing...  
> I... don't know if I managed to do that or not.

Once upon a time, there was a house in the suburbs. It was an old house, built many, many years ago, and renovated many, many times in the past. Compared to all the other houses, it looked small and very simple. But the house itself was very cozy, and seemed to exude a warmth far greater than the other homes.

In this cozy little house, there lived a family of three. They were a father, a mother, and their young son. They were as ordinary as any family could be. The father worked in a bank, and the mother was a homemaker. Their son, Wilson, had just turned seven and was a bright and curious young boy. Perhaps they weren’t the richest, or most popular family on the block, but they were indeed one of the happiest.

Our story begins when one early morning Wilson came to his mother. He showed her one of his school shirts. It was missing a button. His mother asked how that could've happened, but Wilson could only answer that he didn't know. Because he would be late, his mother only told him that she would fix it and shooed him back upstairs to get ready.

The next day, Wilson came again to his mother. Again he told her that one of his shirts was missing a button, and again she asked how it could've happened. But as with the first time, the boy could only say that he didn't know. And the mother sighed once more, and told him to get ready or else he'd be late.

And so it went on, for a full week to come. Every day Wilson would come to his mother, a shirt missing a button. And every day his mother would mend the shirt.

At the end of the week, as per usual, Wilson and his family went to visit his grandfather. He lived in a nursing home with a few other elderly people. The nursing home wasn't very far, only an hour's drive from their home, so they always came to visit him once every week.

There, Wilson told his grandfather about his strange predicament.

To the boy's great surprise, his grandfather gave a hearty laugh. It seemed he was very amused by Wilson's disappearing buttons.

Wilson asked him what he thought was so funny, feeling more than a little affronted.

“Why, little Wilson, it appears that you've encountered the button thieves!” He said.

“The button thieves?” Wilson echoed, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Yes, the button thieves,” His grandfather nodded, “They’re these little people who come out from under your bed to steal your buttons! They have strong legs, and can jump all the way to the roof if they wanted to. They carry with them sharp blades to cut the buttons right off your shirts. And they’re very, very shy. They only come out at night, when we’re all fast asleep!”

Then Wilson’s mother came into the room, apparently overhearing their conversation. She scolded his grandfather about putting such silly imaginings in his head. But it was too late, Wilson was hooked. Already his curiosity had been piqued, and nothing would be able to stop him.

That night, Wilson was determined to stay up and catch this thief. It was difficult for him to keep awake, more than once he'd caught himself nodding off. He didn't realize just how boring it'd be. But he was determined to catch the thief, no matter what it took.

Then, just as he was about to nod off again, Wilson was woken up by the sound of rustling. 

Wilson stayed as still as he could be, hoping the button thieves wouldn't notice him. Steeling himself, the boy sidled up to the edge of the bed and took a peek. What he saw took his breath away in awe.

The button thief looked like a cute little doll. She wore a pretty little dress of blue fabric, and her wheat-yellow hair was adorned with a ribbon. In her hand she held a sharp, thin blade, not unlike a pin needle.

She hopped over the toys scattered on the bedroom floor with ease. Undeterred by anything in her way. Nothing posing as a meaningful obstacle in her path. Even when she reached the looming door of his closet, the button thief seemed unfazed. She just kept on charging and leapt right onto the door handle. She opened it and snuck inside. She must be searching for the right button.

Slowly, so as to not alert the button thief, Wilson placed his feet on the carpet and got up, a blanket in hand. He wasn’t sure of the wisdom of his choice, but he doubted the thief was going to listen to him.

So, with all the bravery he could muster, Wilson flung open the closet door and spotted the thief on one of his shirts. Before she could react, the boy lashed out and wrapped her in his blanket.

Wilson stumbled back. The button thief putting up a glorious fight. It was like holding onto a very feisty cat, she kept wriggling this way and that and Wilson also had to worry about her sword. He hoped with all his might that the blanket would hold, and that she wouldn't hit his hand.

He, somewhat on accident, slammed the thief onto his bed. Wasting no time, he grabbed a pillow and all but smothered her. Wilson hoped that the poor thing wasn’t suffocating.

When she quieted down, slowly (ever so slowly), pushed his weight off the pillow, but still leant against it. Once he was sure that he wasn’t in any danger of being pounced, he lifted the pillow and set it aside. It took a while, but the thief began to move around from under the blanket, trying to get out.

A pair of blue buttons peeked up at him from under the blanket. She didn’t say anything, just kept on looking at Wilson. To be honest, it was making the boy uncomfortable.

“Um… hi,” He said.

Perhaps there were better ways to introduce himself, but it appeared they’d all but abandoned Wilson.

The button thief stayed silent.

“I’m Wilson,” The boy decided to move on to introductions, “And, uh… I guess I’m sorry about the pillow thing…?”

The doll kept on staring at him, and it was making Wilson very uncomfortable, to be honest.

After a long silence, at last she responded, “My name is Alice…”

“Alright, so…” Wilson began, somewhat uncomfortable, “Why are you stealing my buttons?”

Alice was silent, and then, “I believe that is none of your business.”

Of course it wouldn’t have been that easy.

Deciding that he wouldn’t gather anything on the matter, the boy reached over to his dresser and grabbed a small container. It belonged to his mother, but he knew she didn’t often use it and hoped she wouldn’t notice that it was missing.

“Here,” Wilson opened the container and showed it to the doll. It was filled with buttons, “You can take as many as you want.”

“Really?” Alice asked, not quite believing.

Wilson nodded, “Yeah. I mean, it’s easier than stealing them, isn’t it?”

The doll seemed rather unsure. She kept glancing back and forth between Wilson and his container of buttons. Wilson, for his part, stayed patient and didn’t so much as fidget in discomfort. He would wait however long it took if he had to.

Slowly, Alice reached in and pulled out a single button from the container.

Nodding to herself, she said, “This will do for now. Thank you.”

And with that, she hopped off the bed and disappeared back under the bed.

“Uh… you’re welcome…?” Wilson muttered to the empty air.

The next night, the doll came back. Wilson offered her the container, and once again she took a button. She thanked him and hopped back down under the bed. And it went on like that for the better part of a month. As time went on, Wilson found Alice opening up to him. At the very least, they'd managed to have a short conversation before Alice returned to her home.

During one particular night, Wilson asked Alice why her people stole buttons.

“You humans have a saying… ‘the eyes are the windows to the soul’, correct?” She said, “Well, it's a little different for us.”

“In our case, our eyes -our buttons are our soul,” She explained, “The buttons that aren't part of one's soul, we use to decorate houses and important places. I've even heard some who could cast magic using buttons, but that was long ago. You could say that buttons… are very important for us.”

“So are you working on something?” Wilson asked, “I mean, you've taken a lot of buttons.”

Alice hesitated, “No, it's…”

She fell into silence, seeming conflicted with how to proceed. Wilson, patient as ever, waited for her to continue. Whether it was to tell him or not.

“I… Back home, I have a brother. His name’s Teddy,” Alice began, “We used to get into all sorts of trouble, every single day. Mother would always tear her hair out of worry for us,” She laughed a little at that, “All of the things we did were always so dangerous.”

“One day, when we were playing, we got into trouble again. We thought we could handle it, we've been through things like that every day. What would make that day any different?” She went on, somber, “But we messed up- I messed up- and Teddy, he… He lost one of his buttons.”

Wilson was silent as he listened to her story. He wasn't sure what to say, so he didn't bother to say anything.

“We're pretty tough, I'll admit. Even if we lose our limbs, we'd still be alright. But if it was our buttons…” Alice trailed off. She didn't need to say anything for Wilson to know what she meant.

“But you already took a lot of buttons,” Wilson pointed out.

“It can't just be any button,” Alice said, a little frustrated, “It has to be the ‘right one’. Otherwise it wouldn't work.”

For the rest of the night and most of the next day, Wilson thought long and hard on what Alice had said. There must be some way he could help her. But what could he do? He wasn't some great magician that could magic the right button for Alice.

It was during the trip home that he got an idea.

That night, Wilson waited for Alice to show up. When the doll did show up, Wilson didn’t offer her the container like so many other nights before. Instead, he only offered her a single button. He knew it was different from the other buttons that Alice had taken. Usually, she only took the blue or light colored buttons. But the one he offered now was a deep red, much unlike the others.

“Only one?” Alice enquired.

“Well, you said that it couldn’t just be any button, right?” Wilson said, “So, ordinary buttons like what you’d taken wouldn’t work, shouldn’t it?”

In fact, it wasn’t an ordinary button. That button came from his most favorite jacket, the one that his mother had made for him for his sixth birthday. He loved that jacket, and had worn it everyday since. And the wear, and hopefully love, also shone on that one button. What could be more special than a button like that?

Alice examined the proffered button, “And you’re sure this one will work?”

Wilson shrugged, “I hope so. I’m not sure what else would work.”

The doll hesitated for the briefest of moments, before once again taking the button.

“Thank you again, Wilson,” She said.

“I hope this one finally works out, Alice,” Wilson smiled in response.

Alice nodded and dashed back under the bed.

The next night, once again Wilson waited for the little doll. He fell asleep, and she never showed up. The next night, he waited once more. Once again, he fell asleep, and she once again didn’t show. He kept on waiting for her for the week to come. But every time, she never came. And Wilson hoped that nothing had happened to her, that his button had worked. He’d hate it if anything had happened to her.

Wilson didn’t hear from Alice until Christmas eve.

He was just about to turn in for the night, when he saw a bundled up sock at the foot of his bed. Curious, the boy picked up the sock, and was surprised to find that it was filled to the brim with buttons of all shapes, sizes, and colors. He sat on his bed and began looking through them, pulling them out one by one. Then he came across a note and smiled.

‘Thank you,’ It simply read.


End file.
